


Gosling

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Airdot-Child Relationship, Alternate Universe, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, In which Martin has a daughter while at MJN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes an airdot to raise a child.</p>
<p>A collection of ficlets, and the occasional 100 word drabble, featuring the life and times of Martin's daughter, Mallory Crieff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mallory's First Date

**Author's Note:**

> These ficlets are **not** in chronological order with respect to the timeline of Mallory's life. Her general age will fluctuate from ficlet to ficlet but it's also discernible through context in every one.

The very first time a boy came to the flat to call on Mallory, Martin thought he did quite well in presenting himself as authoritative father figure. The boy paid attention as Martin laid out his rules; he even called Martin 'sir' without being prompted to.

"Yes, sir. We'll be back by eleven, I promise," had been his exact words.

He was polite and respectful but Martin was wary of the way his eyes lit up when Mallory came into the room. Granted, Mallory did look lovely. She was wearing the new dress he'd bought her last week, the one he naively thought she'd wanted for her upcoming piano recital, and her wavy red hair was pulled up and out of her face. The boy complimented her, making a small blush bloom over Mallory's cheeks. He stood by while Martin wrapped Mallory in a hug and whispered his reminder that if she needed him to come get her, all she had to do was call.

"Daddy, it's going to be fine," Mallory assured him for what had to be nearing the fiftieth time since she first told him about the date.

"Yes, of course," Martin said. "Because you'll be back by when?"

"Eleven," the boy answered promptly.

"Good lad."

Mallory leaned up to give Martin a peck on the cheek and then they were off. Martin said his goodbyes at the door as he promised he would, watching Mallory and the boy make lighthearted conversation as they walked to the lift. Once the lift doors closed, Martin hurried to the living room windows to look down at the street. The boy led Mallory to his car and held the door open for her as she got in. He drove off at a reasonable pace, almost making Martin feel guilty for having them followed.

Almost.

"They had dinner in a booth at the diner and then went to see a film," Arthur reported, hours later when Mallory was safe and sound and asleep in her bed.

"Which one did they see?" Martin asked. He'd checked the listings earlier that day; there were far too many dark horror films and raunchy comedies playing for Martin's liking.

"The one with the talking animals that hijack a pirate ship, it was brilliant!" Arthur smiled. "I sat in the back where they couldn't see me. I tried not to laugh too much in case they heard me but it was really hard because it was really funny, Skip. He put his arm around her but he didn't do anything else. They didn't even kiss good night."

Martin let out a sigh, feeling oddly relieved as he leaned back in his chair. He lifted his cup of tea to his lips before wondering out loud, "I wonder why they went to see that film?"

"Because I knew Arthur wanted to see it."

Martin coughed tea onto the table and wheezed a few times as he tried to dislodge the liquid from his windpipe. Arthur slapped Martin's back with the flat of his hand until Martin was breathing again.

"Mallory! I, I... I didn't know you were up," Martin admitted.

"Had trouble sleeping," she yawned. "Thought I'd have a cup of tea."

"Kettle's just boiled," Arthur informed her.

"Thanks, Arthur." Mallory went into the kitchen and made herself a cup. "Did you like the film?" she asked, as she came back to the table.

"It was brilliant!" he proclaimed again. "My favorite bit was when the ship crashed into that iceberg and all the polar bears rolled onto the deck!"

Mallory turned to her father with a knowing smile pulling at her lips. "That was Owen's favorite bit too," she said before taking a sip of her tea.

Martin opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, as he couldn't choose between apologizing for or rationalizing his actions. Mallory went around to his side of the table and leaned over his shoulder.

"I told you it was going to be fine," she whispered. She hugged him with the arm not holding her tea and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Daddy," she said before pulling away. "Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Mallory!" Arthur called as she headed back to her room.

Mallory looked back at them before she slipped into her room, still having nothing but a smile in response to her father and his co-worker spying on her first date. Mallory's first date was just another reminder that Martin's little girl wasn't really his little girl any more. She was growing up, too fast if you asked him, and there were days when he could almost hear the clock ticking as it counted down the hours and minutes until Mallory was ready to leave the nest in pursuit of her own life.

Little things, like knowing that the boy hadn't gotten a kiss that night but Martin had gotten two, were all that kept the persistent ticking at bay.

"Good night, Gosling," Martin sighed, no louder than the soft click of the latch closing on Mallory's door.


	2. Douglas introduces Mallory to the piano

Layla Crieff died when Mallory was six years old.

It was a tragically unfair thing to happen.

Layla was killed when her car was struck by a young man who’d simply been going too fast to react correctly. Her little green hatchback was sent straight into a wall; the wall won. As the heaps of metal were torn apart and the young man was pulled--bruised, battered but alive--from his own car, he was told repeatedly how lucky he was that he hadn’t lost his life too.

He didn’t have to meet the man who’d just lost his wife and the child who’d just lost her mother to know that ‘lucky’ wasn’t how he’d choose to describe what happened.

The wake was held at Douglas’ house, after his insistence and minimal resistance from Martin. Douglas had argued that his home was better suited for receiving family members and guests and he correctly assumed that Martin wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind to manage people in his own small, but homey, flat. Douglas, along with Carolyn and Arthur, tried to act as a silent support system for their captain and his daughter that day; they’d kept their distance, allowing Martin to stand on his own as he greeted his in-laws and Layla’s friends, but were at his side in a second if he was hungry, thirsty, or looked like he needed a moment. Arthur offered to pull Mallory away from the people, to read a book or play a game with her, but she refused to leave Martin’s side. Her little hand was like a vice on the hem of Martin’s suit jacket and she didn’t speak to anyone but him.

Martin’s panic was, therefore, understandable when he couldn’t find her.

“Douglas, have you seen Mallory?” Martin asked in a hushed but hurried tone.

Douglas set down the glass of water he’d been refreshing for himself. “Not for an hour or so. Last I saw, she was still hanging off your coat.”

“She had to go to the bathroom and Caitlyn offered to take her; surprisingly, she went,” Martin explained. “Caitlyn said she turned away from the door for five seconds and when she looked back, it was open and Mallory was gone.”

“She can’t have gotten far.”

“Douglas, I can’t lose her too. I can’t lose both of them-”

Douglas grabbed Martin’s shoulders with both hands, holding him steady as his breathing began to pick up pace. “Martin, I assure you, Mallory is fine. She’s here somewhere; there’s no way for her to have slipped out of the house without anyone noticing. Find Arthur and have him help you search the ground floor. I’ll go upstairs and check the bedrooms. She’s here somewhere,” Douglas repeated reassuringly, “and we will find her. All right?”

Martin managed a shaky nod.

“All right then.” Douglas pat Martin on the shoulder. “Go get Arthur, I’ll head upstairs.”

Martin went back to the living room to look for Arthur while Douglas climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Douglas started with his daughter’s room, the one she used once when she visited that he kept in exactly the same state in case she ever came back. There was no sign of Mallory in the four-poster-bed or in the closet of clothes that both she and Douglas’ daughter had long grown out of. He moved on to his bedroom and then the bathroom.

Douglas heard the sound of crying when he reached the door to his study. He opened the door quietly; the well-oiled hinges swung silently when he closed the door behind him.

Mallory was sitting on the bench of Douglas’ upright piano. Her shoes had fallen off and her feet dangled high above the pedals. She was visibly shaking with the weight of her sobs. She was crying so forcefully that she’d started to hiccup between her short gasps for air. Mallory wiped both of her hands across her face and onto the lap of a dress that Douglas knew she’d never wear again even though it was brand new.

A particularly heartbreaking cry moved Douglas to cross the room and gather her into his arms. Mallory didn’t fight; she latched on to Douglas and buried her tear-stained face in his shirt. Douglas pulled out the bench and sat down, holding Mallory close and gently resting his head on hers as she continued to cry. He rubbed his hand in circles over her back, just as he did with his own daughter, in an attempt to calm her breathing and ease her hiccups.

Douglas wanted to say something, he felt he should say something, but even with all his eloquence, Douglas failed to come up with anything appropriate. He could say he was sorry for her loss but that socially accepted standard of condolence sounded especially empty when being offered to a child. Douglas had personally never found religion to be very consoling and he doubted that Mallory wanted to hear that her mother was in a better place now. He didn’t dare tell her that he felt Layla’s death was unfair; if there was anyone who knew it was unfair, it was the six year old girl who’d just lost her mother.

Unable to find any words ease Mallory’s sorrow, Douglas reached out behind her and lifted the keyboard cover. With one hand, Douglas began to play a slow and somber melody. It was a simple tune he’d learned very early in life that still lived in the memory of his muscles. He held Mallory with one hand and played with the other, humming the song softly to himself. He repeated the short song a few times. After two repetitions, Mallory rest her head against his chest; after four, her hiccups stopped. By the end of the eighth run through, Mallory’s sobs had petered down to stuttered breathing and the occasional sniffle.

Douglas wrapped both arms around Mallory in a firm hug. “I know you’re sad,” he said softly. “It’s okay to be sad. Your mum was a wonderful person and we’re all sad that she’s gone. It’s okay to miss her because she misses you. Your mum loved you and your dad more than anyone else in the world. Don’t forget that, Mallory: she loved you and she will always love you.”

Mallory lifted her head, looking up at Douglas with hazel eyes that matched her mother’s. Douglas used his thumb to wipe the few remaining tears from her cheek.

“I know you’re sad,” he said again, “but I promise you won’t always feel this way. There’ll come a day when you’ll be able to think of your mum and be happy because you know that you had a wonderful mum. Plus, you’ve still got your dad, who loves you even more than he loves flying. And you’ve got Carolyn, and Arthur-”

“And you?” Mallory asked, completing the MJN Air roster.

Douglas felt a flash of guilt as he looked down at the pained, but hopeful, face of Martin’s daughter. She was Martin’s, she wasn’t his, and circumstances made it so that Douglas saw more of Mallory in a week than he saw of his own daughter in a year. He’d gladly exchange time spent with Mallory for time spent with his daughter but Douglas knew that neither girl was to blame for the number of hours they featured in his life. They were both just children, his own daughter a couple years older than Mallory, and Douglas knew exactly how he’d want someone to answer his daughter if she was asking for comfort and reassurance.

“Yes, Mallory, you’ve got me,” Douglas said, cupping her face with his hand. “You’ll always have me.”

Mallory threw herself at Douglas, stretching her arms around him as far as they could go. She started to cry again and Douglas held her, rubbing her back and rocking ever so slightly.

“Would you like me to take you downstairs to your dad?” Douglas asked. Mallory wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Would you like me to play some more?”

Mallory nodded. Douglas put his hand back on the keys and played.

Douglas played until Mallory’s tears began to quiet. She shifted in his lap and turned to face the keyboard, watching Douglas’ hand, then both his hands, move across the keys. Douglas played until Mallory tentatively reached out and put her hands on his. She mimicked his movements and tried to stretch her fingers out like his when he played chords. She eventually sat back, turning to lay her head on his chest. Douglas played until Mallory was lulled to sleep by the music and the gentle murmur of his humming.

Douglas closed the keyboard cover. He carefully stood from the bench and carried Mallory back downstairs to Martin.

That was the day Mallory fell in love with the piano.


	3. The Most Important Day of Martin's Life

Today was going to be the most important day of Martin’s life.

He didn’t know how he knew that but Martin was sure he was right; he could feel it in his bones.

Today was going to be the day that would change his life forever.

Martin moved through his morning routine without any of the anxiety that had plagued him before his previous attempts to get his CPL. He was sure that today would be different. He’d studied relentlessly over the past few months; there was nothing about CAA regulations, safety procedures, and proper landing maneuvers in rain, snow, or wind that Martin didn’t know. He’d spent as many hours as he could afford in the air, practicing and perfecting flying by hand. He was well aware of his past mistakes and he’d overcompensated to ensure they wouldn’t happen again.

Today was going to be the day that the outcome was finally different.

Martin surprised Layla, who was standing by the door to see him off, when he grabbed her by the arm and dropped her into a little dip. It was an impressive move considering that Layla was two weeks past her due date. Martin kissed the surprise off her lips before helping his wife to her feet again.

“The next time you see me,” he informed her, “I won’t just be Martin Crieff. I’ll be Martin Crieff, licensed commercial pilot.”

Layla’s smile mirrored the bright optimism on Martin’s face as she straightened his tie.

“Go get ‘em, Goose,” she grinned.

Another kiss for luck, even a confident wink, and Martin was off to the airfield.

Martin wouldn’t know for sure until the results were returned to him but he was fairly confident that he’d aced the written exam. He knew exactly how to answer every question and, without the fluster and panic of not knowing, he was able to take his time on the calculations and choose his words carefully on the short answers. Only the flight portion of the exam remained. Martin stood beside his fully checked aircraft and looked up at the clear blue sky; he couldn’t have asked for better conditions.

“Martin Crieff?”

Martin brought his attention back to the ground and the man approaching him holding a clipboard.

“Yes?”

“James Wilkinson,” the man said, introducing himself. “I’ll be going up with you today.”

Martin shook James’ hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Are we ready to go?”

“Yes, if you just step this way-”

Martin’s mobile rang as he was leading James into the aeroplane. He apologized for the interruption and reached into his pocket to shut his phone off, glad to see that James didn’t reach for his pen. He was surprised when he caught Layla’s name on the screen as he moved to dismiss the call. Martin hesitated, then apologized again and answered the phone.

“Layla? Is everything all right?”

“No,” she answered, sounding out of breath. “Well, yes, everything’s all right but everything’s not okay. I’m in labor.”

“What?” Martin’s confidence vanished in a flash. “Now?”

“Yes.” Layla groaned making Martin wince despite the distance. “My water broke while I was with my mum and we went straight to the hospital. The contractions are getting closer together and the nurses are rushing around like it’s going to be any second now and, and...”

“What?” Martin asked, growing nervous. “Layla, love, what is it?”

Layla’s voice wavered as she admitted, “I’m scared. Martin, I’m scared. Are, are you coming?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Hurry, Goose,” she implored. 

Martin heard a nurse argue with Layla about her phone and then the call went dead. Martin braced himself on the fuselage, his mind racing as he tried to catch up to the new situation. He slipped his mobile into his pocket and turned to James. Martin was more than surprised to see the other man waiting patiently, watching Martin with a neutral expression, his pen still clipped to his collar.

“Ready to go?” James asked.

“No,” Martin said, shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry. I, I can’t do this today. I need to go.”

“You need to go right now?”

“Yes, right this second.”

James’ brow furrowed as he reached for his pen. “Martin, you understand that if you walk away from the flight test, that counts as a failure, not just for the flight portion but the whole exam?”

“I understand,” he nodded.

“You’ll fail the CPL exam,” James said, trying to clarify the situation. “Should you want to attempt the exam again, you’ll have to repeat the whole process, including the theory portion.”

“I understand,” Martin repeated, “and I’m sorry for wasting your time but... I can’t do this today. My wife needs me.”

James studied Martin for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. Martin apologized again, ducked under the wing of the plane, and raced towards the car park at the other end of the airfield. He jumped into his van and tore out of the lot as fast as the poor old thing could go. Martin had absolutely no second thoughts about leaving the airfield and, thus, failing the CPL exam for the sixth time. Layla had stood by him after every failure, building him back up and encouraging him not to give up on his dream; if she was scared and needed him in her corner, then that was exactly where he was supposed to be. Martin weaved in and out of lanes and ran more than a few orange lights, willing his van to go faster than it was probably capable of.

He made it just in time.

There was screaming, there was swearing, there was... a surprising amount of bodily fluids but, in the end, there was a brand new person in the world; a little girl with Layla’s hazel eyes and wisps of Martin’s red hair. It may have been cliché but, as Martin sat at Layla’s bedside carefully cradling the little bundle of new life, he couldn’t think of any other word to describe Mallory’s birth than ‘miracle.’

Layla’s hand on his leg brought Martin out of marveling at their daughter.

“Not just Martin Crieff any more,” she mumbled sleepily.

“No, not any more” he agreed in a whisper.

Martin smiled at Mallory as her tiny mouth stretched open in a yawn, an action that was copied by her mother. It didn’t happen often but Martin had been completely right that morning.

Today was the most important day of Martin’s life.

Today he became Martin Crieff, father.


	4. Mallory comes out to Arthur

Mallory was sitting on the floor, in the aisle, with her back against one seat and her feet pressed up to the other. She was at the very end of the cabin, between the last row of seats. Mallory stared at the floor, picking at the loose fibers, noting that the dark blue carpet looked greyer every time she saw it.

Her head shot up when she heard the door to the aeroplane open. Mallory scrambled to her knees and peeked over the top of the seats. She sighed when she saw it was only Arthur. The steward came into the plane, hugging a vacuum to his chest and humming a tune that Mallory would always consider ‘Arthur’s song.’ Mallory pulled herself up higher, putting her arms over the top of the seat.

“Arthur,” she called quietly.

Arthur looked towards the back of the cabin, clearly surprised to see her. “Mallory?”

“Arthur, close the door.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, please?” she asked. Arthur reached behind him and pulled the door closed. “Thank you, now come over here,” she requested, waving him over with her hand. Mallory almost stood all the way up, reaching out towards Arthur when his hand went for the light switch. “No!” she insisted. “Don’t turn the lights on. Just come over here and be quiet about it.”

Mallory sunk back to the floor, resuming her previous position in the aisle. The cabin lights stayed off. Arthur came down the aisle and sat across from her, his longer legs needing to be pulled up to his chest to fit his feet in against the seat. Mallory remembered the days when she and Arthur could fit side-by-side in the width of the aisle. They spent many a cargo flight squeezed together reading books or drawing pictures. Sometimes they’d even hide between the seats, hunting wild Douglasaurses or Martinodons, depending on who was flying the plane.

Everything seemed simpler then.

“Why do we have the lights off?” Arthur asked.

“So no one knows we’re in here.”

“Mum knows we’re in here,” he pointed out. “Well, me, she knows I’m in here. She sent me in here to hoover the plane. She doesn’t know you’re in here; I didn’t know you were in here. Why are you in here?”

“I needed someplace to hide,” she shrugged.

“From what? And why in GERTI?”

“I like GERTI,” Mallory answered, purposefully skipping Arthur’s first question. She smiled as she looked around the cabin. There was just enough light coming in through the windows to illuminate the path through the galley, all the way up to the flight deck door. Mallory thought of all the times she’d run down the length of the plane and into her father’s arms. “She’s small but strong; when I was little, I thought GERTI could literally take on anything.” Mallory sighed, “She makes me feel safe.”

“You weren’t on board when we hit that goose.” Arthur’s face blanched a little at the memory. “I didn’t feel very safe then,” he admitted. “I thought we were going to die.”

“But you didn’t though,” she reminded him.

“No, we didn’t, thanks to Martin’s brilliant landing,” Arthur beamed.

“Right, thanks to Dad,” Mallory mumbled, looking back down at the carpet.

“What are you hiding from?”

Mallory played dumb. “What?”

“Just now, when I asked why you were in here, you said you needed someplace to hide. What are you hiding from?”

“Dad,” Mallory whispered.

“What?”

She chanced a glance in Arthur’s direction, finding genuine concern on the steward’s face. “Dad,” she said loud enough for him to hear.

“Martin?” Arthur asked in confusion. “But he’s your dad. That’d be like me hiding from Mum.”

“You never hide from your mum?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. Arthur stopped mid-shake as he remembered something. “Well, not never,” he clarified. “When Mum and Dad got divorced, we had to go to court a few times. I didn’t like going; it was just like when they argued at home only there were more people arguing and someone yelling at them to stop arguing. I hid in the closet so I wouldn’t have to go but Mum found me every time. Also, the doctor,” Arthur added. “I tried to hide from Mum once so she wouldn’t take me to the doctor for shots.”

“Nobody likes going to the doctor for shots,” Mallory commiserated.

“Where’s Martin making you go that you don’t want to go?”

Mallory let out a nervous laugh. “He’s not making me go anywhere. I, I have to tell him something,” she explained, “something I’ve been thinking about telling him for a while now but I don’t know what he’s going to say. I’m... I’m scared of how he might react.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want it to change us.” Mallory bit down on her lip; voicing her greatest fear made her stomach twist in knots. “I don’t want him to look at me any differently. I don’t... I don’t want him to love me any less.”

Arthur leaned forward and pulled Mallory into a hug that she gladly accepted.

Of the three members of her MJN family, Arthur was the one who was more friend than caretaker. He could always be counted on to play a game, or sing a song, or get excited about something that made the rest of the crew, her dad included, look at them like they were nuts. However, at the first sign of trouble, Arthur effortlessly transformed into just as good a surrogate parental figure as either Carolyn or Douglas. He’d lectured her while bandaging her hand when Mallory burnt herself on a particularly hot dish Arthur had reheated. He’d resisted her pleas and taken her straight home when he ran into her in Fitton when she was supposed to be grounded.

And he was the best--after her dad, of course--at warding off any of her fears.

“Martin will never, ever love you any less,” Arthur assured her. “That’d be like trying to make the sky less blue or trying to make Snoopadoop’s hair less curly. It’s impossible... believe me, I’ve tried.” Arthur pulled back to offer her a smile. “Nothing you could have to tell him would change the way he looks at you.”

“Even if it’s awful?”

“Is it awful?”

“No,” Mallory answered hesitantly. “At least, I, I don’t think it’s awful. I don’t know what Dad’ll think. I don’t know what I’ll do if he thinks it’s awful.”

“What is it?” Mallory tried to pull away from Arthur but he held her gently by her arms. “Mallory, you can tell me. I won’t think it’s awful. You’re brilliant,” he said, with such a flourish that Mallory had to smile, “I know it won’t be awful. Think of it as practice,” Arthur suggested. “You have to tell Martin, so tell me first. Practice always makes things better.”

Mallory bit her lip again as she hesitated. Arthur watched and waited patiently, his encouraging smile still adorning his face. Mallory took a deep breath, gathering the courage she needed say the words out loud.

“I like girls,” she finally managed. “In the way I’m supposed to like boys. I’m... I’m gay.”

Arthur’s smile grew in a way that only Arthur was capable of. “That’s brilliant.”

“‘Brilliant’?” Mallory was stunned by Arthur’s reaction. “You think so?”

“Of course it’s brilliant!” he reiterated. “It’s certainly not awful. Why would you ever think that was awful?”

“Because it makes me different? Because people might not accept who I fall in love with?”

Arthur looked as if he’d never considered those problems before. “Why does it matter who you love, if you love them?” he asked. His simple question moved Mallory from stunned to speechless; there was no argument to his irrefutable logic. “Love is too big to keep it for just one person or even one type of person,” Arthur went on, “but I think that’s because it’s meant to be shared. You can love anybody that’s good enough to love you back.”

Mallory stared at Arthur for a moment, wondering how she’d ever thought he’d react any differently.

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. Arthur was surprised by his sudden armful of Mallory but he welcomed the embrace. He closed his arms around her and gave her a few comforting pats on the head. Mallory grinned into Arthur’s shoulder, giddy with relief and unable to stop her occasional bursts of nervous laughter.

“I love you,” she said, squeezing him tight.

She could hear the smile in his response. “I love you too.”

Mallory pulled back from the hug and sat on her knees. “Thanks, Arthur. You were right; that did make it better.”

“After just one go? Brilliant.” Arthur’s beaming smile lit up the unilluminated cabin. “Are you ready to tell Martin now?” he asked.

“Almost,” she answered. “Maybe in a few days.” Mallory got to her feet and stepped over Arthur’s legs blocking the aisle. “I would like to see him though; a week and a half is way too long for you guys to be gone on one trip.” She held out her hand to Arthur. “Would you mind taking me home?”

“We’d have to ask Mum,” Arthur said from the floor. “I still haven’t hoovered the aircraft.”

“Let’s go ask her then,” Mallory grinned. Arthur took hold of her hand and she helped him to his feet. “I’m also curious to see if he brought me back anything.”

“He bought you Pocky.”

“Really?” she asked, growing excited. “Did he find any new flavors?”

Arthur nodded. “He found cream cheese ones just before we left.”

“Are they good?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t let me try them. He said they were only for you.”

“Then I’ll let you try them. Come on!” Mallory backed her way down the aisle towards the nose of the aeroplane. “Let’s go ask Carolyn if you can take me home. Dad’s back,” she said with a soft smile. It grew into something more playful as she added, “And he brought Pocky.”

Mallory opened the door to the aeroplane and Arthur followed her down the stairs, onto the tarmac. Once he’d made sure GERTI was locked up, they were running to the portacabin, excitedly chatting about the prospect of cream cheese-flavored, chocolate-covered biscuit sticks.


	5. Mallory and Arthur have a fight

It was very rare for Mallory and Arthur to fight.

They were like peas in a pod on most days, huddled together in the cabin, reading books or drawing pictures of GERTI and her crew. Mallory, having become shyer after her mother’s death, thrived around Arthur’s effervescent cheeriness; he was more friend than surrogate parental figure which was exactly what Mallory needed as she adjusted to the long hours of charter life.

However, when the conditions were perfect--when Mallory missed her own bed and was fatigued from crossing too many time zones in too little days; when Arthur had burnt too many meals and been shouted at by too many passengers--a little disagreement over the silliest thing could spark even their rarely seen tempers.

“You cheated!” Mallory shouted, hitting the end of the board, sending the pieces and cards flying onto the floor.

“I did not!” Arthur yelled. “It was just luck!”

“You won three times!” Mallory complained. “You didn’t mix up the cards good enough! You always get the double ones!”

“It’s called ‘shuffling’ and I did it just fine!”

Mallory jumped out of her seat and stomped off towards the back of the cabin. Arthur started to follow her, making sure to step over the scattered pieces of the board game.

“Mallory, sit down.”

Mallory turned around and glared at Arthur as best as a seven year old could. Her whole face scrunched up in anger as she crossed her arms in defiance.

“No.”

“You have to sit down while we’re flying; it’s a rule.”

“No, I don’t,” Mallory argued petulantly.

“Yes, you do,” Arthur quickly rebutted.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do!” he insisted. “It’s for your safety!”

“I don’t care!” she screamed.

Arthur’s face hardened into a very uncharacteristic scowl. He turned with a loud huff and marched towards the galley, kicking pieces and trampling over cards and the game board as he went. Mallory grinned triumphantly. She stuck her tongue out at him when Arthur looked back to pull the galley curtain closed. Once she was sure he was gone, Mallory raced up to the row where they’d been sitting to rescue her raggedy stuffed polar bear. She clutched him tightly to her chest and rushed back to the end of the aeroplane.

Two different tones sounded in the cabin. The _ding_ rang simultaneously with the illuminating of the seatbelt signs. The _bing bong_ preceded Martin’s voice over the cabin address.

“Hello, chaps.” Mallory automatically looked up when her father’s voice came in through the speakers. “I just wanted to warn you that we’ve gotten some reports of clear-air turbulence ahead of us, so it might get a little bumpy. As a precaution, I’ve turned on the seat belt signs. That means I expect you to be in a seat with your seat belt on, Mallory Crieff.”

Mallory gasped at the betrayal but obediently climbed into a seat in the last row and buckled the seat belt loosely over her lap.

“Put it on properly, Mallory,” Martin instructed.

Mallory set her polar bear into the empty seat next to her and pulled the end of the strap to tighten the seat belt around her body. She grabbed her polar bear, burying her face in his well-worn fur and squeezing him as hard as she could. Hot, angry tears muddled the bear’s white coat until Mallory couldn’t hold it in any more.

“I can’t believe you tattled on me, Arthur!” she shouted, her voice straining as she pushed her volume to its limit.

The galley curtain slid open as forcefully as a curtain could be slid. Arthur looked both angered and hurt by her accusation.

“It’s not tattling if it’s about safety!” he argued.

Mallory had to crane her neck to be able to see Arthur over the seats. “You told my dad on me!” she yelled. “That’s tattling! That’s all it is!”

“I did not tattle on you!”

“You did to!”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“If both of you do not stop shouting this _instant_ ,” Carolyn warned loudly from the galley, “neither of you will ever set foot on GERTI again.”

Matching looks of terror crossed Mallory and Arthur’s faces. Mallory sunk down as low in her seat as the seat belt across her lap would allow. She hid her face in the stomach of her polar bear, hoping that he would hide the sound of her breathing. Arthur cautiously looked back at his mum. Finding that the galley was no longer a safe place to be, he stepped into the cabin and slid the curtain closed. He picked up the mistreated pieces of the board game and put it back into its box before taking a seat in the nearest chair.

Mallory and Arthur sat silently in their corners of the cabin, both hoping that this wouldn’t be their last flight aboard GERTI.

“Was that really necessary, Carolyn?” Martin asked, when she came into the flight deck with the water and paracetamol Douglas requested.

“Yes, Martin, it really was,” Douglas grumbled. He eagerly accepted the glass and pills, popping the painkillers into his mouth and draining the water in one swig.

“They would’ve worked it out eventually.” Martin looked over his shoulder at the galley, his view of the cabin obscured by the closed curtain. “Or tired themselves out.”

“Trust me, Martin,” Carolyn assured him. “When you’ve been a parent as long as I have, you’ll learn that protecting your own sanity is one of the best things you can do for your child. Anything they can work out through yelling, they can work out in silence.”

Carolyn’s parenting technique was proved an hour later, at the end of a peaceful and quiet flight. Upon checking the cabin for landing, Carolyn found, and then retrieved Martin to show him, Mallory and Arthur sitting side-by-side, on the floor in the middle of the cabin. Mallory’s polar bear looked down on them from its perch on a seat as they read a book, very quietly talking and laughing as if their fight had never happened.

“And all without having to endure an hour of yelling,” Carolyn said smugly, ushering Martin back into the flight deck to land her plane.


	6. Mallory asks for a pet

“Daddy, can I have a puppy?”

“‘May I,’” Martin corrected without looking up from his list. 

After circling the globe, twice, ferrying prospective yacht buyers back and forth from Antibes, MJN wasn’t scheduled to have another job for fifteen days. It was great for Mallory; fifteen consecutive days of wholesome home cooked--to the best of Martin’s ability--food, sleeping in her own bed, and waking up in the same time zone she fell asleep in. However, it was a lot of planning for Martin; fifteen days of shopping, cooking, and finding babysitters so he could earn a little extra cash by doing a few van jobs while he wasn’t flying.

He and Mallory had just finished the shopping and were on their way to ask Mallory’s maternal grandparents if they’d take her over the weekend so Martin could deliver twenty live chickens to Barris.

“Daddy, may I have a puppy?”

“No, Gosling, not so close to dinn-”

Martin stopped in his tracks and looked down at his daughter as he fully parsed Mallory’s request for the first time. She looked up at him hopefully, one hand in his, the other wrapped around the neck of her stuffed polar bear.

“What?”

“May I have a puppy?” Mallory asked again.

“No, Gosling,” he said, shaking his head gently. “I’m sorry.”

“May I have a kitty?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “No kitties either.”

“May I have a hamster?”

“No.” Martin tried not to let the smile curl his lips; she’d obviously given this some thought.

“May I have a fish?”

“No, Mallory,” Martin sighed. “I’m sorry, Gosling, but our schedule isn’t very good for-”

“May I have an otter?” Mallory interrupted.

“An otter?” he laughed. “Where would we even keep an otter?”

“In the bathtub,” she answered, matter-of-factly.

Martin put the shopping down and knelt in front of Mallory. He moved some stray strands of her wavy red hair out of her face, clipping them behind her ear, under one of her white aeroplane barrettes. Mallory watched him expectantly, now hugging her polar bear in both hands.

“No. No otters in the bathtub.” Martin warded off any rising dissent by putting his hands on Mallory’s arms and pulling her towards him. “I’m afraid we can’t keep any pets, Gosling, no matter how big or small or... semiaquatic,” he chuckled. He offered her a smile but his daughter remained unmoved. “Why do you want a pet?”

“So I have something to keep me company when I’m lonely.” Martin was caught off guard by Mallory’s admission that she was sometimes lonely but she kept talking before he could ask her about it. “And everybody I know has a pet. Megan and Nessa have Mr. Tabby,” she explained, citing Caitlyn’s daughters and their pet cat, “Arthur has Snoopadoop, and the girl at piano has a goat!”

“A goat?” he questioned.

Mallory nodded. “Yeah, it eats her sheet music.”

“Mallory, we can’t keep any pets because of our schedule.”

“But Arthur-”

“Arthur has Carolyn to watch Snoopadoop when he’s away on trips,” Martin reasoned. “He also has his friends at the pony club to watch her when they’re both away. We wouldn’t have anyone to watch our pet because we go on every trip together. It wouldn’t be very fair to the animal either; it would miss us every time we went away.”

Mallory scrunched up her brow as she thought about Martin’s explanation. Martin turned her polar bear’s nose to her face and peppered Mallory’s cheeks with fuzzy kisses until her giggles finally broke through. She twisted, pulling the bear out of his reach, and hugged it to her chest.

“Plus you have Ollie,” Martin gestured to the polar bear, “to keep you company and he can go anywhere we go without breaking any international animal import/export rules.”

“Daddy, Ollie’s not real,” Mallory protested.

“But he won’t eat your sheet music,” Martin laughed. 

He sighed as the smile fell off Mallory’s face. Pets were the last thing the Crieff household needed but Martin sensed he was in danger of spending their fifteen days in Fitton arguing the pet point from every angle Mallory could think of. He wanted to offer her something in consolation, something to take the topic off her mind, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t getting out of this discussion with frozen yogurt.

Martin put a hand on her shoulder. “Mallory, we’re not getting a pet. But,” he said quickly, holding her next complaint at bay, “if you’re good for Nan and Pop this weekend, you may have an Arthur.”

Stubbornness was quickly replaced by confusion as she asked, “What?”

“If you’re good for Nan and Pop this weekend, when I get back from Barris, you can invite Arthur over to our flat,” he explained.

Mallory’s face lit up with hopeful realization. “Really?”

Martin nodded. “We can buy a new film and he can sleepover.”

“Can we have waffles for breakfast?”

“We’ll have to go back to the shop but, yes, we can have waffles.”

“And we can sleep in the living room?” she asked, growing in excitement. “And stay up late? And watch films with popcorn and M&Ms?”

“Only if you’re good for Nan and Pop,” he reminded her.

“I will be,” she assured him, nodding vigorously. Mallory clutched her hands together, denying the polar bear of breath if it had any. “I’ll be very, very, _very_ good.”

“Then I guess we have to go back to the shop for batter,” Martin chuckled.

“And chocolate chips!” Mallory blurted out.

“Blueberries,” he suggested.

“Okay, blueberries,” she conceded.

Martin put a hand on Mallory’s head, pulling his daughter into his embrace. He kissed the top of Mallory’s red waves as she continued asking about things they could do when Arthur came over. Martin stood, gathering the shopping, and took Mallory’s hand in his. She walked briskly along beside him as they headed back to the shop, waving Ollie loosely by one of his arms.

Martin looked down when she tugged on his hand.

“May we have Toblerones, Daddy? Arthur likes Toblerones.”

Martin couldn’t help but laugh even as he shook his head. If pets were the last thing his household needed, then two sugar-infused children bouncing off the walls of their small home was definitely the second to the last.

“No, Gosling, no Toblerones.”


	7. Lost Bear

“Good morning, Martin.”

“Morning, Douglas.”

“What do you have there? Oh, more flyers.”

“Yes. Well, I thought that, when Arthur and I went into town for lunch, I thought we could put up a few more in some of the shop windows.”

“Martin, every shop in town already has one of those flyers in their windows. They’re more prevalent than the notices about the road work that’ll be closing Hobart Street next month. Where are you getting all of these? It must be very costly to print.”

“Not really, actually. Madeline at the print shop, she’s, well, she’s doing them as a favor. She was, is… she and Layla were good friends. She’s trying to help.”

“I see.”

“It can’t hurt.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Right.”

“Good.”

“… Well, I’m going to go to the tower and check in with Carl. He seems to know a good number of ATCs; he’s been backtracking through our flights, asking them about the bear.”

“Martin?”

“Hm?”

“You do realize that it’s just a bear, right? A toy. Children lose toys all the time.”

“I, I know.”

“And Mallory is certainly old enough to deal with the loss of a toy, no matter how dear to her it may be.”

“What’s your point, Douglas?”

“My point is that it’s been two weeks. You’ve put up a flyer in every window and on every sign post in a twenty mile radius. You’ve turned the town upside down on a nearly daily basis. We’ve been on standby for twenty days and yet you have Carl talking to ATCs in cities and countries we physically have not been in in over a month. Is it time to accept that the bear is lost?”

“… No.”

“No?”

“I know it’s just a toy but I don’t want her to lose it. If I have tell her that it’s lost, then I will… but it’s not time yet. I’m not done looking. It’s… it’s not lost yet.”

“Martin, you’re only making it worse by putting off the inevitable. If the bear is lost, then you need to tell Mallory so she can come to terms with it. Loss is a part of life; it happens every day, all around the world. Children lose toys, friends, arguments. People lose jobs, money, loved… ones.”

“…”

“Martin, there will be loss in her life.”

“I know.”

“You can’t protect her from all of it.”

“… I have to try.”


	8. Mike-Romeo-Yankee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Martin, a child, piggy backs."

By the fifth day of being on standby, it was just about impossible to keep Mallory inside the portacabin. She’d read all of her books, tired of playing games with Arthur, and, while she was still relatively well behaved, Martin could tell that her cabin fever was starting to work its way onto Carolyn’s last nerve. They couldn’t go anywhere, they still needed to be ready at a moment’s notice should the client decide to call, but Martin figured the least he could do was let her run around outside in the sun and stretch her legs.

Arthur, in addition to Mallory, jumped at the idea of having lunch outside, in the shade of GERTI. Douglas and Carolyn also wholeheartedly agreed; they were both in favor of anything that would get the child and manchild out of the portacabin so long as they were not the ones who had to accompany them. Arthur fixed them some drinks and brought out their food while Martin spread out an old blanket he kept in the van under the shade of GERTI’s port side wing.

They had a very nice lunch. It wasn’t long before Arthur was spread out across half of the blanket, his stomach full and his eyes growing heavy from the six chicken salad sandwiches he’d eaten. Martin also felt a little lazy sitting in the shade on a surprisingly temperate day. He leaned back on his hands, watching Mallory run around with Ollie, his daughter alternating between holding her stuffed polar bear by his feet and stretching her arms out at her sides.

“Gosling,” Martin called out as she ran past him. “Gosling,” he tried again when she didn’t seem to hear him. Martin sat up and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Mallory!”

Mallory skidded to a stop, Ollie flying out of her hand in the process. She let out a little yelp and scrambled to pick him up. Mallory turned the bear over, inspecting him on all sides before being satisfied that he was all right. She tucked him under her arm and walked over to the edge of the wing where the shade was starting to creep away from their picnic site.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“What are you playing?”

“Aeroplane!” Mallory declared. “I’m an aeroplane like GERTI and Ollie’s my passenger but he doesn’t hold on really good so we have trouble flying.”

“I could see that,” Martin agreed with a little nod. “He needs to wear his seat belt; all good passengers wear their seat belts. Maybe you should practice flying without him first. I thought you were a very good aeroplane but you didn’t do any of your pre-flight checks before take off,” he pointed out. “All good aeroplanes need to do their pre-flight checks.”

“How do I do that?” Mallory asked.

“I can show you,” he smiled. “I know everything that aeroplanes need to do to fly.”

Ollie took Martin’s place on the blanket next to Arthur, who had started to snore a little, and Martin and Mallory walked out into the sun. He positioned her on one of the lines that divided the space between the hangars before taking his own position a few steps off to the side.

Martin held his hand up to his mouth and made a crackling radio noise. “Mike-Romeo-Yankee, this is the Tower,” he said, speaking into his hand. “We need to do your pre-flight checks before we can give you permission to take off. Do you copy?”

“Copy, Tower,” Mallory responded loudly.

“Roger that copy. Starting pre-flight checks. Wings?”

Mallory’s arms shot out, straight and stiff, before she smiled brightly at her father. “Wings, check!”

“Flaps?”

Mallory wiggled her fingers. “Flaps, check!”

“Landing gear?”

Mallory kicked her shoes against the tarmac. “Landing gear, check!”

“That concludes the pre-flight checks. Mike-Romeo-Yankee, you are cleared for take off. Proceed down the runway and watch out for birds.”

Martin gestured down the line when Mallory glanced back at him. She looked down the line and started into a slow trot, still holding her arms out at her sides. Mallory began to pick up speed, her pace quickening to a jog, as she followed the line painted across the asphalt. She’d almost reached a full run before Martin, who’d been following a few steps behind her, scooped her up and lifted her onto his shoulders.

Mallory’s surprise made her a little unsteady but Martin held tight, his firm grip on her legs reassuring his daughter that he wouldn’t let her fall. Martin didn’t break his stride and, after just a few paces, Mallory had her arms extended once again. She laughed as Martin narrated their flight around GERTI, pointing out the portacabin, the hangar, and the very rarely sighted hibernating Arthur. The two of them performed daring feats of air acrobatics, banking tightly around GERTI’s nose and tail and swooping under her wings.

Carolyn emerged from the portacabin during their fourth circle around GERTI. “Martin!” she called. “The client just rang; she’ll be here in thirty minutes. I need you to file the flight plan and start checking the plane.”

“Yes, Carolyn,” Martin called back as they flew past her.

“And wake Arthur up while you’re at it.”

“Whatever you say, Carolyn.”

“This does not count as your walk around,” she warned before stepping back into the portacabin.

Martin made the crackling radio noise as he headed back towards their runway. “Mike-Romeo-Yankee, this is the Tower. You are cleared to land.”

“I’m not ready to land yet, Tower.”

Martin slowed to a stop and looked up at Mallory. “Gosling,” he said, breaking character, “you heard Carolyn. The client called; it’s time to go to work. We need to be ready to take off when she gets here.”

“I know,” Mallory nodded. She leaned forward, looking down on Martin from above. “But can’t we go around one more time? Just one more?” she bargained. “Please?”

Martin couldn’t help the hint of a grin that pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Mike-Romeo-Yankee, we have a runway closure down here. You’ll have to hold for a few minutes.”

“Roger, Tower,” Mallory smiled.

She sat up again and extended her arms out at her sides. Martin took hold of her legs and made a wide turn back towards GERTI. They took the longest route possible around the aeroplane, neither of them caring if their landing was delayed for just a little bit longer.


	9. An Exception to Standard Bedtime Protocol

Two pilots entered the Crieff flat as the final minutes of Halloween night ticked away on the First Officer’s watch.

Martin carried Mallory to her room, slipping her out of her pilot’s jacket and hanging her hat off the headboard before setting her into bed. He unpinned his wings--she’d insisted on his wings--from her shirt so they wouldn’t poke her while she slept. Martin pulled up the covers, tucking her in, and kissed his sleeping daughter on her forehead. He moved quietly back towards the door, smiling to himself despite the three stripes on his arm.

“Good night, Captain Crieff.”


	10. Something Borrowed

“Daddy, can I borrow your wings?”

It was a request Martin had heard many times before. As a child, wanting to be a pilot like her father, Mallory had often asked to wear his wings. She saw them as Martin did, a symbol of one of his greatest achievements, and always treated them with reverence and care. Her dream changed as she grew, from pilot to pianist, and the requests became less frequent, then none.

Until today.

Martin couldn’t stop smiling as he helped Mallory pin his gold wings to the white satin of her wedding gown.

“Of course, Gosling.”


	11. Hands, Hearts, Fathers, Families

Crieff and Richardson stood together at the altar.

Hands clasped together, hearts joined as one. 

Mallory smiled softly at Cat as the pilot--they always said girls fell for someone like their father--finished repeating her vows and set a ring on Mallory’s finger, a matching band already set on her own. No sooner had the officiant pronounced them as wives than Mallory found herself at the bottom of a low dip, supported by love and locked in a kiss.

Crieff and Richardson stood together in the audience.

“I’ve never been so proud to call your daughter my own.”

“Nor have I.”


	12. Arthur offers to take Mallory on an outing

Martin pulled Arthur away from the plane, away from his daughter sitting patiently on the airstairs, hugging her stuffed polar bear to her chest. He pulled on the steward until they were out of earshot, standing next to the hangar where MJN was assigned to be while they waited for the engineer to arrive and fix GERTI.

“Arthur,” Martin hissed. “You should run ideas by me first before you go making suggestions to Mallory.”

Arthur looked confused. ”I just thought she’d like to get away for a bit and-“

“I know, and it was a very nice thought, Arthur, but you should always run ideas by me first. She’s my daughter, Arthur; if you want to take her somewhere, you should always ask me first. That way we avoid disappointing her if it turns out she can’t go.”

“She can’t go?” Arthur asked.

“Well, I can’t go,” Martin pointed out. ”I have to wait for the engineer.”

“But can Mallory go?”

“How?”

“With me,” Arthur smiled. ”I can take her.”

Martin immediately started to shake his head. He opened his mouth, then quickly shut it and stilled his movement when he saw the smile on Arthur’s face dim. His eyes flicked over Arthur’s shoulder to Mallory, then back to Arthur. Martin took a moment to choose his words carefully, not wanting to hurt Arthur’s feelings with his explanation.

“Arthur, I just don’t-“

“I can do it, Skip!” Arthur jumped to assure him. ”I’ve watched kids before!”

“Really?”

“Well, the one time.”

Martin sighed. ”Arthur, I’m just not sure that-“

“Please, Skip?” Arthur asked, clasping his hands together. ”I’ll take really good care of her. She’ll have lots of fun and we’ll be back way before we have to take off.”

Martin studied Arthur’s hopeful face. He wasn’t sure which Arthur wanted more: to go to the zoo with Mallory or for Martin to trust him to go to the zoo with Mallory. Martin sighed again, making a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He’d barely started to nod his head before Arthur beamed and turned around to call to Mallory. Martin grabbed him by the arm, spun him back around, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Do not lose her,” Martin warned.

Arthur wiggled his way out from under Martin’s hand. ”I won’t, Skip!”

“I’m serious, Arthur. Keep your eyes on her at all times.” Martin raised a hand as he counted off more guidelines. ”Do not lose her, do not let her get hurt, do not fill her with junk food, do not buy her anything we can’t take through customs, and do not—and I cannot stress this enough—let her lose Ollie.”

“Righto, Skip!”

“Have you got that?”

“I’ve got it!”

“What are you not to let Mallory do?” Martin questioned.

“Get lost, get hurt, eat junk food, buy illegal goods, and lose Ollie,” Arthur repeated.

“You really have got it.”

“I’ve got it! I can do this, Skip.”

Martin chuckled as he put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of Arthur taking Mallory out on his own but he knew Arthur and Martin knew Arthur would do everything in his power to keep Mallory safe and not let Martin down.

“I believe you can, Arthur.” Martin started them on a path back towards the plane. ”Let’s go tell her the good news.”

Mallory was just as excited as Arthur was to hear that she could go with him to the zoo. Martin managed to get a hug and a kiss from her before she grabbed Arthur’s hand and eagerly skipped off towards the airport.

Martin felt his worries ease as he watched them walk away. They were still in earshot when Mallory tugged on Arthur’s hand.

“What kind of animals will be there, Arthur?”

“Oh, all sorts!” Arthur answered. ”Elephants and polar bears and lions and otters! All sorts of animals, big and small!”

“Do you think Daddy would let us bring home a small one? As a pet?”

“Maybe!” he offered optimistically.

“Arthur!” Martin shouted from behind them. “Customs!”

“Oh! I mean, no, no, I don’t think so, Mallory,” Arthur corrected himself, putting on a stern face. ”Not at all, no pets.” He looked back at Martin, giving him a smile and a wave. ”I’ve got it, Skip!”

Martin hesitantly waved back, no longer feeling any sense of ease. 

Maybe he should’ve made Arthur write it all down.


	13. You Know

Mallory bounded from the portacabin, the keys to her very own car clutched tightly in her hand, and came to an abrupt stop a few feet away from the vehicle.

“Daddy, it’s-”

“I know,” Martin nodded beside her. “But it was the only one that fit my budget.”

“No, Daddy, it’s lovely,” she assured him. “Thank you. I absolutely love it. I just wasn’t expecting it to be-”

“I know.”

Martin put his arm around Mallory’s shoulders and they contemplated the car together. Hearing Arthur approach, they braced themselves for the inevitable, as Martin had bought Mallory a...

“Yellow car!”


	14. Goodnight Manual

“In attitude instrument flight, the four-step process is used to control pitch-”

“Martin, what are you reading her?” Layla asked from the door to their daughter’s room.

“It doesn’t really matter what I read,” Martin answered gently, smiling down at Mallory’s increasingly sleepy face. “All that matters is the tone I use.” He feathered a kiss to her forehead and glanced up at his wife with a shrug. “She doesn’t understand the words anyway.”

Layla chuckled softly before leaving Martin to continue with Mallory’s bedtime routine.

“Now, where were we?” Martin asked, scanning the manual page. “Right. Control pitch attitude...”


	15. The Little Crieff

The slamming of a car door caused Dirk to glance up from his attempt to fix the broken mower.

The sound echoed over the quiet car park, followed shortly by the stifled roar of an engine coming to an abrupt halt and another slamming door. Dirk spotted the little Crieff weaving her way through the parked cars towards the hangars. Granted, Martin’s daughter wasn’t quite so little any more but--much like his own--it was hard for Dirk not to see her as the little girl hurrying along beside the MJN captain, her father’s hand in one hand and a stuffed polar bear in the other.

Mallory walked at a brisk pace, her hands stuffed into her pockets and stress, or possibly distress, lining her face. She dropped her head and lengthened her stride when a voice from the car park called her name.

“Mallory!”

Dirk stood up and pulled a rag from his pocket. He wiped the grease from his hands as he watched a boy emerge from between the cars, almost jogging in an effort to catch up to Mallory. Dirk knew the little Crieff could handle herself--much like his own--but the strain he’d caught on her face prompted him to follow a short distance behind the boy.

“Mallory!” the boy shouted again. “Mallory, wait! I just want to talk!”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shane,” Mallory replied without turning her head. “Go away.”

“Mallory, please-”

“Go away!” she shouted.

Mallory picked up the pace, breaking out into a light run as she rounded the corner leading to the MJN portacabin. The boy sighed and increased his own speed, unaware that Dirk was slowly closing the distance behind him.

“Daddy!” Mallory called ahead as she ran. “Douglas! Arthur!”

Dirk rounded the corner a few steps behind the boy, just as Martin, Douglas, and Arthur crashed out of the portacabin. Mallory ran straight for her father and his protective embrace. Martin wrapped his arms around her and bowed his head to listen as she spoke into his chest. Arthur hovered nearby, looking concerned and unsure of his place. Douglas, the third father on the scene, was the first to address the boy.

“Oh, hello, _Shane_.”

The boy took a moment to catch his breath before speaking. “I just want to talk to Mallory,” he explained.

Douglas and Dirk exchanged a glance over the boy’s shoulder. Douglas stepped forward, subtly putting himself between the boy and the Crieffs.

“Well, it appears that Mallory doesn’t want to talk to you so I suggest you vacate the premises immediately.” Douglas smiled as Dirk stepped up beside the boy, startling him with a hand on his shoulder. “If you need any assistance, Dirk here will be more than glad to help you.”

The boy swallowed visibly as he looked up at Dirk. “I just want to talk to Mallory,” he repeated weakly.

“Not today, Shane.”

Martin stood next to Douglas, the two pilots nearly blocking Mallory and Arthur from view. Martin shook his head, the grim severity on his face matching not only Douglas’ but also Dirk’s.

“And I’d prefer that you never contact her again,” he added.

“But Mr. Crieff!” the boy protested. He slipped out from under Dirk’s hand and approached Martin, being careful to keep distance between him and Douglas. “It’s just a misunderstanding. I can explain what happened if she’d just talk to me. “Please, Mr. Crieff,” he tried again, “I just want to talk to her.”

Dirk was surprised when Martin’s expression softened a little. He took off his hat and handed it to Douglas before stepping forward to meet the boy. Martin placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and offered him the bare minimum of what could be considered a smile.

“No,” he said simply.

Martin removed his hand and took a step back. However, instead of returning to Douglas’ side as Dirk expected, Martin came back around with a fist to the boy’s face. It was a solid hit that caused the boy to stagger back and collapse under unsure feet. Even Martin towered over him as he looked down at the boy splayed out on the tarmac.

“And it’s _Captain_ Crieff,” Martin reminded him.

Martin walked away, shaking his hand out as he went. He stopped beside Douglas and looked back at Dirk.

“Dirk, could you escort this young man from the premises?”

Dirk nodded. “Of course, Captain Crieff.”

He stooped beside the boy and hooked his arms under the boy’s, easily lifting him to his feet. Dirk took hold of the back of the boy’s shirt. He was forced to tip toe as Dirk turned and began to march him back towards the car park.

“Dirk?” Martin asked.

Dirk looked back to see Mallory standing beside Martin, her father’s arm around her shoulders. Her eyes were red and tears welled up in the corners but she didn’t cry; she stood strong and silent and tall--much like his own. Martin pressed a kiss to her hair and looked up at Dirk.

“Take him the long way.”

Dirk held Martin’s gaze for a moment before glancing back at the little Crieff.

He grinned.

“Of course, Captain Crieff.”


End file.
